


(cause i'm) lovesick

by scrapbullet



Category: Hellraiser & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Ficlet, Forced Orgasm, Implied/Referenced Incest, Mindfuck, Not Beta Read, Other, Sex Addiction, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-09 00:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10399827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapbullet/pseuds/scrapbullet
Summary: “Is it what you dreamed of?” She asks, and though her face is blank as slate Frank can feel her amusement at his rapture, the kind of cruel enjoyment a child takes in pouring scalding water into an ant nest simply to watch them scatter in terror. Her hand is slick with blood as she draws it over his face, anointing him, before slipping her cold fingers into his mouth. “Such pleasures as you’ve never known...”





	

It’s an indescribable state of being.

What are words? What is thought? What is taste and touch and smell when he exists on a higher plane of self? Such purity is far beyond the paltry teachings and lessons he’s been forced to endure-

(bent over a table scoring deep, angry lines into the weathered wood as the teacher drones on in the background, imparting knowledge so banal and useless that Frank can’t help himself, can’t stop himself from wallowing in the visceral sludge of his own lusty thoughts, _pretty Charlotte with her blonde hair and plush lips and perfect breasts, sinking to her knees to suck his cock, eyes glassy with tears as she chokes on it, fighting to breathe_ , and so _so_ very bored with it all)

-more pure than can possibly be imagined. 

Drugs can’t compare. Women, with their sultry figures begging to be kissed and fucked and held down until they scream from it, _lips chapped and red wet from spit and semen and misery, crying out for him to stop, to continue, to “please, please, ram your cock into my pussy, harder, Frank, harder, oh god, I’m coming, I’m-”_ , it doesn’t come close to this. Nothing ever has and ever will because this, _oh,_ this, it transcends the physical and soars higher, and higher still, until the release is so much that he falls down into the very depths of Hell.

Ha. Hell. What a fucking _joke_.

First, they give him pleasure. Peeling his scalp away with delicate care they cut through white bone to reach the grey matter inside, and so delve inside to play. No wet cunts for his cock, here, no, not when their fingers twist and shove mercilessly in his head, stimulating those nerves until he has come so many times that his balls have nothing left in them; dried husks splattered with his release. No mouths, either, or tight assholes to shove into, no heaving tits or doe eyes or knives slicing through skin like velvet.

(Julia; and the way she’d lit up as he’d held her tight, kissed her lips and dragged the edge of the knife across her sternum, writhing on his brothers bed. Kirsty; and the way she’d danced around on coltish limbs, all sensuous promise and frustratingly off-limits; the best kind of fucking tease.)

None of the things Frank so enjoys, _craves_ , and is refused like a recalcitrant little boy.

There is nothing arousing about being spread out before them, pinned down like a butterfly as they pick at his flesh with nonchalant interest. 

“Is it what you dreamed of?” She asks, and though her face is blank as slate Frank can feel her amusement at his rapture, the kind of cruel enjoyment a child takes in pouring scalding water into an ant nest simply to watch them scatter in terror. Her hand is slick with blood as she draws it over his face, anointing him, before slipping her cold fingers into his mouth. “Such pleasures as you’ve never known...”

Gasping, Frank twitches, eyes rolling back into his skull as his body arches, aflame, cock soft as he releases one more time, utterly dry and painful in its intensity. “ _Fuck,_ enough!” His heart thuds against his ribs in a drum beat, tastes the raw meat of her fingers before wrenching away. “Dammit, I’ve had enough!”

The chattering one gnashes its teeth, saliva dripping down its chin.

 _He_ , their leader; with a grid of pins decorating his head, laughs lowly, bending over Frank’s prone form, baring his teeth in a parody of a smile. His touch, when it comes, sears through skin and muscle, skilfully parting Franks’ belly with ease; imparting the purest lesson of all, the lesson of _pain._

“Isn’t this but another pleasure?” The Female asks, curious. “You don’t like it? Shame.”

The Chatterer fidgets, as excited as a pup mounting a bitch.

It’s too much. Frank can’t even scream the agony is so great, watching in horror as his intestines are expertly wound around and around, coiling over _his_ arms, all red and slippery, stinking of iron and shit. _“Stop, please, no more-”_

“Oh, no. No, Frank.” _He_ , Pinhead, coos.

One twist and the delicate tissue tears, splitting open and spilling its contents. Frank moans, choking on the acrid taste of his own vomit.

“It is only the beginning." 


End file.
